


rest your eyes dear, its been a long day (and there are only more to come)

by birdybirdnerd



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Episode: s01e22 Colony, Pre-Slash, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 19:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20953844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdybirdnerd/pseuds/birdybirdnerd
Summary: Missing scene from the end of Colony, where after giving his statement, Martin passes out in Jon's office.





	rest your eyes dear, its been a long day (and there are only more to come)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brinnanza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brinnanza/gifts).

> so @brinnanza made a post on tumblr that was basically a soft ass prompt for post-colony jonmartin where the stress from all martin went through knocks him out in jons office immediately after the episode ends and i uhhh ran with it. originally posted to my tumblr after a feral hour long two am writing binge, but i finally cleaned it up to post here 
> 
> hooray for a foray into writing for a new fandom! hopefully i got more shit for this, i really love this podcast so far

Jon was still staring at his phone, the cryptic message from Jane Prentiss shining up ominously at him, when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up just in time to see Martin sway dangerously on his feet. 

“I think I’m-” he started, then his eyes rolled back in his head. 

Jon was on his feet in an instant, dropping the phone so he could catch the other man before his head slammed into the desk. Jon stumbled under the weight, almost falling as well. 

“Martin, what the hell-” he grunted, knees shaking as he forced himself to stay upright. “Martin?” 

But Martin was out cold. Jon huffed, exasperated. Seemed like the adrenaline fueling him the past two weeks had finally worn off, letting the stress and hunger and lack of sleep all catch up at once. It would have been nice for it to happen in a more convenient place than Jon’s office, but he admitted to himself that he was at least glad Martin had made it back to the Institute at all before passing out. If it had happened in the middle of the street, where a car could hit him, or back at his apartment, where Prentiss could return at any moment… Jon shied away from that line of thought. 

He grimaced and braced himself to lift Martin up enough to loop an arm around his shoulders. The man wasn’t particularly heavy, but he was _ tall_, and Jon wasn’t in the best of shape, physically. It took some maneuvering to get Martin in a position Jon could move, but he finally managed to nudge the cracked door open more with his foot and set off. 

The Archives were dark and silent. It would have been a bit eerie, but Jon was tired and glad for the late hour and the lack of people it brought. It wouldn’t do to have Sasha or, God forbid, _ Tim _ come across them in this position. He would never let Jon hear the end of it, nor Martin for that matter. No, Jon was thankful they were alone. He could already feel a headache pricking at the back of his mind. 

He shouldered open the door to the spare room where he kept his cot, back already aching from the short trip. He debated just dumping Martin and leaving, but sighed and shook his head. Martin, poor boy, had been through enough recently. The least he deserved was a modicum of comfort, especially with the nightmares he was sure to have from the experience. Jon laid him down as carefully as he could, pulling off his shoes and tugging at the thin sheet underneath him to free it. 

He settled it over Martin and tucked the edges in without thinking, mind still whirring as the events of the day and Martin’s words played on loop in his mind. There was still so much they didn’t know, and every statement he read, every bit of knowledge Jon gleaned only created more questions. Nothing made sense, and Elias knew more than he was letting on. And now Martin was directly caught up in it all as well. 

Smoothing Martin’s hair out of his face, Jon sighed again. Evidence of his harrowing two weeks lined Martin’s face, dark circles under his eyes starkly visible even in the half-light shining in through the open doorway. He looked somewhat peaceful like this, Jon admitted- unconscious, REM not quite started. At least he had a few moments of quiet oblivion. 

It took Jon a few moments to realize he’d kept stroking Martin’s hair, watching him breathe steadily and absolutely lost in thought. When he did, he frowned, removing his hand and clearing his throat. That was enough of that, he decided. His own lack of sleep was affecting him more than he’d realized. The headache had moved somewhere towards behind his left eye, and was beginning to throb painfully. He needed sleep, and since this cot and his own flat (alone, where anyone could get him, where _ Prentiss _ could get him) were out of the question, the break room couch was looking more and more inviting. 

Decision made, Jon turned towards the door to leave. 

And promptly slammed his knee into the desk. 

_ “Fuck!” _ he shouted, momentarily forgetting himself. 

There was a gasp from behind him as Martin shot up, awake and hyperventilating almost immediately. “Who- who’s there?” he called, voice cracking. “Where am I? Prentiss-” 

“It’s- it’s just me, Martin,” Jon snapped before Martin could work himself up anymore. He clutched his knee, gritting his teeth through the pain. “It’s just me. Hurt myself on the _ bloody _ desk, that’s all. You’re at the Institute. Go back to sleep. Everything’s fine.” He cursed again under his breath at his slip-up, gingerly setting his foot back down. 

“O-Oh. Okay.” Martin’s voice was still shaky, but smaller now. Jon could hear him gulp, the click of his throat loud in the darkness. “H-How did I, how did I get here?” 

“You passed out in my office after giving your statement,” Jon explained patiently. “I carried you in here so you wouldn’t be forced to sleep on the floor. End of story.” 

“Ah.” There was a moment of silence, broken by an awkward barely-whisper of “Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Jon straightened up, sending the dark outline of the offending desk one last tired glare, and headed towards the door. 

“Do you-” Martin cut himself off, mouth snapping shut audibly. He made a noise under his breath, something strangled and uncomfortable. 

“What was that?” 

“Do you think- no, it’s stupid. Never mind.” 

Jon stopped in the doorway, fist resting on the frame. “What, Martin?” he asked tiredly. 

Martin seemed to chew on his words a moment, causing Jon to look up at him. He seemed to be avoiding the archivist’s gaze. Before Jon could prompt him again, though, his words spilled out of him in a rush. 

_ “Doyouthinkyoucouldstay?” _

Jon blinked, thrown. Blinked again. “Sorry, repeat that?” 

Martin chuckled nervously. “No, it’s fine, I said it was st-” 

_ “Martin.” _

“I said do you think you could stay?” Martin asked again, voice racketing up an octave into something high and panicky. He was looking anywhere except directly at Jon as the words continued to pour out of him. “‘Cause I’ve been alone for, like, thirteen days now and I really don’t want to stay alone anymore and I’m really tired and don’t like the Archives when it’s late and dark like this but-” 

Jon cut him off. “Yes, fine, I’ll stay.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, his headache blooming into something truly spectacular. At this point, he’d sleep on the floor just to get it to go away. 

“You don’t- I mean, you don’t have to stay the whole night,” Martin babbled, twisting the sheet between his hands as he backtracked. “Just, well, ‘till I fall asleep I guess? I won’t made you stay the night, can’t really, you know, just- just need someone nearby for a bit ‘till I’m out, you know?” 

“Of course, Martin.” Leaving the door cracked, Jon wandered back into the room, snagging the desk chair on his way and pulling it a little closer to the edge of the cot. It was far less comfortable than his own desk chair, but it would fulfill its brief purpose well enough. He collapsed into it with a sigh. “Go to sleep, Martin.” 

“Okay, yes, doing that.” Jon had closed his eyes to stave off his headache, but he heard as Martin shuffled around on the cot to get comfortable. Then, after a moment of silence, “Thanks again, Jon.” 

“Don’t mention it.” _ Please. _

Martin hummed, a quiet huff of breath that sounded almost fond to Jon’s sleep-deprived ears. 

He was out in seconds. Jon watched him sleep, telling himself he would wait just a few more moments to make absolute certain Martin wouldn’t wake up again before he left. And really, Jon was giving his legs a rest after hauling Martin here in the first place. And his knee ached a little bit. And the darkness and silence was so soothing to his head. And it was so late, and he really _ was _ exhausted… 

Jon didn’t mean to fall asleep in that chair, watching Martin sleep peacefully. So long as he woke up before Martin did, and before anyone got in to work that morning, then no one would have to know. 

Well, his back would know. It wouldn’t let him forget. But that was his own fault. 


End file.
